Chapter 11 - NOAH
Emily screamed his name so loudly her throat tore.
Robert ran behind her.
“Noah!”
Nothing.
The window overlooked the side yard.
A torn section of mesh hung from the frame.
Emily’s mind raced.
“No.”
Robert looked outside.
“No!”
Emily grabbed her phone and called police again.
Then she saw something on the bed.
Noah’s paper birthday crown.
Underneath it was his tablet.
Emily grabbed it.
The screen displayed a paused video.
She pressed play.
Noah’s face appeared.
The recording had been made minutes earlier.
He whispered into the camera.
“Aunt Emily said recording helps people tell the truth.”
Emily covered her mouth.
Noah looked frightened but determined.
“Grandpa said I should stay upstairs. But I heard him talking about Grandma Susan.”
Robert stood behind Emily.
His face crumpled.
Noah continued.
“I know Mommy has a box in Daddy’s office.”
Emily froze.
“What box?”
The recording continued.
“She told Uncle Steven Daddy can’t find it.”
Noah looked toward his bedroom door.
“I took pictures.”
The video ended.
Emily searched the tablet.
A new folder.
Photos.
The first showed Rachel’s home office.
The second showed a small metal lockbox beneath a cabinet.
The third showed the box open.
Inside were documents.
Old papers.
A photograph.
A cassette tape.
And a handwritten envelope.
DANIEL.
Emily enlarged the image.
Robert whispered, “Susan’s handwriting.”
Emily looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“I would know it anywhere.”
The final photo showed Rachel kneeling beside the open box.
Behind her stood a man.
Not Steven.
Emily zoomed in.
The man was older.
Silver hair.
Dark coat.
Scar near his mouth.
Robert stumbled backward.
“No.”
“Who is that?”
Robert shook his head.
“No.”
“Dad!”
“Vincent Hale.”
Emily stared at him.
“You said he was dead.”
“He is.”
“Then who is this?”
Robert’s face had gone gray.
“I don’t know.”
Sirens approached.
Emily looked back at the cut window.
Then something occurred to her.
The bedroom was on the second floor.
There was no ladder.
No damaged gutter.
No footprints on the flowerbed beneath the window.
She looked at the hallway.
“Noah didn’t go out the window.”
Robert stared.
“What?”
“The window is staged.”
Emily moved downstairs as quickly as her leg allowed.
“Someone took him through the house.”
The police arrived.
Officers searched every room.
Garage.
Basement.
Closets.
Yard.
Noah was gone.
One officer reviewed the external doorbell camera.
The front door showed no exit.
Back camera had been disabled.
Garage camera went offline for exactly eleven minutes.
Emily thought of Rachel.
Secret cameras.
Remote access.
“Check the garage.”
They did.
Nothing.
Then the officer asked, “Who has access codes?”
Robert answered.
“Me. Daniel. Rachel.”
Emily looked at him.
“And Steven?”
Robert shook his head.
“I don’t think so.”
The officer replied, “We’ll verify logs.”
Emily called Daniel.
His flight had landed.
He was forty minutes away.
When she told him Noah was missing, there was silence.
Then a sound Emily had never heard from her brother.
A broken gasp.
“I’m coming.”
“Daniel, police are here.”
“I’m coming.”
“Rachel may be involved.”
“I know.”
Emily froze.
“What?”
Daniel’s voice became cold.
“She called me twenty minutes ago.”
“What did she say?”
“She said I needed to choose between my sister and my wife.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“And?”
“I told her I was choosing my son.”
A pause.
“Then she said I’d regret it.”
Emily whispered, “Oh God.”
Daniel continued.
“Emily.”
“Yes?”
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“The box Noah photographed.”
Emily looked at the tablet.
“What about it?”
“It belongs to Mom.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Daniel’s voice trembled.
“You don’t understand.”
Emily waited.
Daniel said, “Mom didn’t give it to me.”
“What?”
“She gave it to you.”
Emily stopped breathing.
“But I was a child.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t remember.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
“What does that mean?”
Daniel’s answer was interrupted by shouting outside.
An officer ran toward the house.
“We found something.”
Emily followed.
At the end of the driveway lay Noah’s blue sneaker.
Beside it was a folded birthday invitation.
On the back, written in black marker:
BRING THE DRIVE TO THE PARTY TOMORROW.
COME ALONE.
OR THE BOY DOESN’T TURN EIGHT.
Robert whispered, “His birthday is seven.”
Emily stared at the message.
Exactly.
Noah was turning seven.
Not eight.
May you like
Whoever wrote the note did not know him well.
Which meant Rachel might not have written it.
